


let mine be

by goukyorin (sashimisusie)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ask Fic, F/F, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/goukyorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She does not make her promise to return from the ruins, but neither does the other offer to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let mine be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [varentains (storminlover)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storminlover/gifts).



> [shieldedbyflame](http://shieldedbyflame.tumblr.com/) asked:
> 
> hands quickly reach out for hers, wrapping themselves around her fingers - just barely grasping her wrist - and the spymaster gives her a tentative squeeze. "be safe?"

 

> _Let the blade pass through the flesh,_  
>  _Let my blood touch the ground,_  
>  _Let my cries touch their hearts._  
>  _Let mine be the last sacrifice._  
>  _—Andraste 7:12_

        She should be honoured to be among the three chosen to stand at the Inquisitor’s side in the upcoming confrontation against Corypheus, and she  _is_. There is no greater duty than protection, and no higher calling than sacrifice—except perhaps, the price paid by the Grey Wardens. Nonetheless, a nervous flutter settles unevenly at the base of her spine, sending her pulse thrumming in her ears with each heartbeat.

        They may fail. They may die. But she would not ask others to pay a price she would not give up herself. Thankfully, the Inquisitor understands that much.

        Cassandra checks the buckles on her armour and tugs at leather straps, working through a checklist from muscle memory when the door to her quarters creaks open. Fingers tangle in her own, a grip working its way loosely to circle the Seeker’s wrist in a dagger-draw quick motion. A murmur accompanies the Spymaster’s hesitant squeeze of the other’s hand. It’s halfway between a question and a promise, querying the Maker’s will in the bumps and troughs of her knuckles. If they could see the next step of their paths, how easy it would be. Perhaps there can be  _some_  comfort in blindness, and the knowledge that for all the power and influence once wields, uncertainty can never truly be eliminated.

**“**  ——You  _would_  worry, wouldn’t you? **”**

        Her tone is dry, but a smile turns up the corner of her mouth to soften her words, fragile as those little white flowers that Leliana loves so much but refuses to ask anyone to get her. She has never been good at reassurance, but being bad at something has never stopped the Seeker from trying. Taking the Spymaster’s hand in her own, she squeezes back.

        A pulse, life beating in an ebb and flow.

**“**  I will return, Leliana. Maker willing, we will put an end to this threat and be back before you even notice we’re gone.  **”**

        It is easier to leave the promises of safe return to a higher power. Cassandra doesn’t have to lie to one of the few people she bares herself completely to, when the breath leaves her crushed and battered form, and they bury her in Val Royeaux.

        It isn’t a lie if she never promised.


End file.
